Dreich
by ChubbyBunny
Summary: Severus Snape has abandoned the Wizarding World and now resides in a remote town on the black moors of Scotland. He lives without magic and is considered a recluse, living in a cottage on the top of a hill. His new life will end though when a storm blows in, a visitor arrives and he is forced to face himself and his past. Rated M for language, violence and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note: Hi! Good to see you all again. Severus came knocking and this is what spilled out. Though the town is fictional, the black moors do exist. Dreich is a Scottish word meaning, "Dreary," or "Dark." Scottish words are both beautiful and harsh which reminds me very much of the potions master. I plan on making this a chapter story, so hang on for a wild ride. This is rated M for later violence and sexual situations. Reviews are always appreciated!

XOXO

~C.B.

* * *

The bits and pieces of me that once harbored any feelings of love have long since been broken off.

I am a shell.

I am empty.

If a stone was dropped inside of my hollow self all one would hear is the dull echo of a long abandoned canyon, the wind crying its anguish to unhearing ears.

If I was a tree and were to fall, no one would ever know if I made a thunderous crash.

I should be dead and in an eternal slumber.

And yet…

I am awake.

* * *

This small town on the black moors of Scotland that I have resigned myself to is a fine example of a time long past. The citizens in this muggle place are mostly farmers, shepherds, inn keepers and store vendors. Often times they are dirty faced and dirty shoed. Faces of those who pass me on the cobbled streets are weary from a days hard labor. There may be only about four hundred men, women and children in total who live here full time. There are no wizards here, at least to my knowledge. This is how I prefer it. No one asks questions. Only the rotund grocery clerk who has six children and a baby still attached to her teat has ever asked me how my day was; and It would have been easier to answer if she hadn't whipped out a well used breast to start feeding the screaming infant attached to her with a wrap around her chest. I don't remember if I ever gave her an answer. It is just as well; the muggles here are obviously afraid of me. I am at least a head taller than most of the men here, sallow faced, pale skinned, dark eyed and dark haired. The gene pool here appears small as mainly everyone is fair haired, light eyed with a rosy complexion. I am an outsider, a stranger. There were whispers when I first moved into the old cottage on the hill that I was an odd sort, not to be trusted, a recluse. Children scattered as I passed, women cast their eyes downward and men puffed their chests out like ridiculous roosters, as if daring me to meet them on their own ground. The fools. I could kill them all with a whisper, maim them for life, make them repulsive. Violence is like breathing, once you practice long enough it becomes second nature. But…I am tired.

For a former soldier of the dark arts and spy of the Order I realized with disgust that this place was not much different from where I came. The unending looks of wariness from strangers and cruel whispers are all things I am used to. It is only natural to be suspicious of someone like myself. The unyielding weight of sin is a heavy burden. Others can feel your past without even realizing it. I have killed, I have lied, I have betrayed those I loved. I expect fear from those who do not know me. The muggle world is different; this time instead of intimidation, I have practiced peace and indifference. It has taken many years, but now I am somewhat accepted. A small nod of acknowledgment is better that having a back turned to you. I have no one close to me, but that is all right. It is better this way.

I have resigned myself to this simple way of life and have not used any sort of magic in ten years. An average wizard or witch in my position would no doubt be suffering; the electrifying power burning in their soul howling to be set free. But, not I. I despise magic. I loath it. It has caused me nothing but pain. Flipping a light switch or lighting a candle is easier than chanting 'Lumos,' accompanied by foolish wand waving. A ball point pen is less messy than using a quill and ink pot. If there are no spells, there is no magic. If there are no wands, there are no charms. If there is no Hogwarts, there are no children. If there are no children, there is no Potter. If there is no Potter there is no…

There is no pain.

Here I do not have to see the swarms of children who have caused me so much strife. At least that is what I tell myself. There is no Albus breathing down my neck, controlling my strings like a sadistic puppeteer. No longer do I encounter the constant reminders of Lily and all of the horrible deeds I have left in my wake. I no longer have to see her son and be reminded of what could have been. I have left everything, and everyone, behind. I still have my mark, the dark stain on my forearm that will never fade. Countless potions, spells, and even muggle treatments have failed. It is one of the only mementos I have brought with me into my new life and it is both humbling and humiliating.

I look out my front window towards the moors surrounding my home. The sky, while typically overcast, is blacker than normal. The tall grass bends over on itself with the sudden gale of wind that has begun to blow from the East. This weather is ominous. My eyes are drawn towards the dirt path leading to the mailbox with 'T. PRINCE,' the name I have adopted written on in it white paint and see a lone figure come into view. This is no muggle delivering mail, nor a lost traveler. I can feel the power of a magical being. Their face and body is covered with a dark colored walking cloak, and my hand drifts towards the desk drawer where my wand has laid untouched for ten years. The tips of my fingers begin to burn with a familiar pulse, of a dark magic gone long unused. With a frightening realization, I have become aware that I am smirking. I am older in years, but wizards do not age in physical or mental strength as quickly as others. In fact, I am in my prime.

I have been found, but I am not afraid.

I welcome this violence welling up within me, filling the empty places.

For the first time in a very long time, I feel alive.

The figure is coming closer and has passed my mailbox without a glance. They know who really lives here. They wouldn't be here if they didn't.

My fingers are clutching my wand and I don't remember opening the drawer it has been dormant in. I am ready.

Severus Snape is my name, and I am tired of hiding.

There is a storm coming.


	2. Chapter 2

The hooded man reaches the crest of the hill and see's the old, but tidy cottage coming into view. He knows that a traitor resides within these walls and must be dealt with accordingly. What was that old muggle phrase? 'Cheaters never prosper?' While this may be true in most cases, these non-magical fools had never had the pleasure of meeting a Death Eater before. Cheating is their specialty.

Severus Snape had not only cheated the Dark Lord, but the buffoon Dumbledore as well. While the latter sin could be forgiven (and celebrated), the obvious and premeditated disregard for the Master was a transgression of the highest order. Though Voldemort may be gone, his legacy and mission still remain burned into the arms and hearts of those who followed him fully and completely. The traitor Severus Snape must die.

The old rusted mailbox he passes bears the alias he knew would be there; the name of a Mudblood. That status title causes a hateful burn in his heart and he knows that his once fellow Death Eater played them all for fools. His hand wanders into his inner robe pocket and grips the elm wood tightly. Today there would be retribution, there would be reven-

To his surprise, his target is standing on the cottage porch waiting for him. Severus was always a tall fellow and that had not diminished any with age. In fact he looked taller, his black hair shoulder length and eyes as black as coals still pierced from yards away. He would have looked far more venomous were it not for the casual Muggle blue jeans and black sweater he had now adopted instead of his trademark robes.

The man swallows, a small spark of doubt tickling the back of his mind. He knows that Severus is a dangerous man, he has seen what he is capable of: torture, murder, curses… He was not counting on his quarry to be expecting a visitor, but now is not the time to rehash times long passed. He clears his throat and prepares to speak, but Severus's voice calls out first,

"You must truly have a death wish, coming to my home. I haven't even laid out my tea set yet."

The man sneers behind his hood, suddenly finding courage, "Big talk coming from a self-imposed Muggle. It's been to long… _Tobias._ Isn't that what you want all those filthy townsfolk to call you?"

Severus smirks and crosses his arms, leaning against the porch railing, "They can call me what they wish; sometimes it is Tobias, other times there are names far less savory. Your name is no better Hansel Burr."

"Hm," Hansel finally pushes away his hood, "I would say I'm honored that the traitor Severus Snape remembers my name, but that would be a lie. You are a disgrace, you worm. You deceived our Lord, you disgraced your title-"

"My title was that of a deceiver," Severus's voice rises over the wind, and Hansel is surprised to realize that he himself shrinks a little within his cloak. The Professor has not lost his edge, "You single-minded, blithering idiot. Voldermort made fools of us all. He made false promises, scarred us for life and sent us as children ourselves out into the world to do harm. We killed, and we were good at it. Or rather, I was. You were lucky to not obliterate your own genitals."

Hansel snorts, fingers tightening around his wand. He is afraid of Severus Snape, but he also knows he must complete his mission. Clutching this sole object gives him renewed strength, "Words, words, words Severus. You were always good with words. But tell me, are you still as sharp with your magic as you are with your tongue?" Hansel pulls out his wand and points it at Severus, who simply looks on bemused from his porch.

"Oh dear," Severus murmurs, "It seems as though you are serious about this."

"I am," Hansel nods, taking a step forward.

"There is nothing I can do to change your mind? You don't have to do this." Severus moves forward as well onto one of the porch steps, "You can still turn away you know."

Severus's moving towards him throws Hansel off guard. What is he up to? Despite every instinct telling Hansel to retreat, he stands firm, "I am not a coward like you, Snape."

"Hm," Severus takes another step and is now on the ground, "a coward am I?" the air around him feels ominous, the wind picking up again, "Tell me Hansel," another step forward, "where were you when the Dark Lord fell?"

Instinctively Hansel takes a step backward, "I was at Hogwarts, where all of his loyal followers were."

Another step forward, "Liar."

"N-no, I was there-"

"You were cowering outside of the castle, fool. You may have been in attendance, but not in the ranks. What do you hope to accomplish here with my death? Everyone already thinks I'm buried, what difference does it make?"

He is getting to close for comfort, he is maybe fifteen paces away. Hansel knows he must kill him soon, before he gets any closer, "Stop and accept your demise like a true wizard," Hansel snarls, getting into a low stance, "I have sworn to avenge the Dark Lord and make this world pure, accept your death Severus Snape! _Avada_-"

"_Sectumsempra!" _

An unbearable pain grazes Hansel's face, knocking him backwards. Blood splatters around his feet, and when he finally glances up Severus is standing tall and proud, wand pointed in his direction, "Tell me again," Severus smirks, "who now is the disgrace?"

Hansel smiles, pink tongue darting out and licking the blood running down his cheek, "Oh Severus, now you have made this fun. _Confringo!"_

To Severus's surprise, Hansel's aim is not directed towards him, but at his home. The cottage erupts in flames and begins to burn quickly. This distracts Severus for the briefest moment, just as Hansel's fist meets his cheekbone. Stars erupt behind his eyes as he stumbles; magic he was expecting, not brute force. Before he can recover, Hansel rushes him and knocks him to the wet grass, fist over fist raining on his face. Though Severus is a large man, Hansel's ferocity is frightening. Severus knows he no longer has the upper hand. He tastes blood in his mouth and his head begins to spin. The only way he can turn this around is in turn using brute force himself. He allows Hansel several more strikes before grabbing his fist in his hand, and then twisting it sharply to the left. The wrist bone snaps like a twig and Hansel lets out a howl. Taking the opportunity, Severus flips Hansel onto his back, holding down the injured hand while driving his fist repeatedly into his opponents nose. This fight is no longer a distinguished duel between wizards; it has turned into a full on brawl. They roll together, a muddy mess of fists and blood. Severus feels a poke in his back and realizes he is laying on his wand. Desperately he tries to twist his arm under his body but Hansel's attack is relentless. In what Severus decides is the best way out of the situation, he drives his thumb into Hansel's left eye.

Hansel shrieks, reeling backwards. Severus grabs his wand, shoves it into Hansel's chest, then shouts, "_Avada Kedavra!" _There is silence for a long moment, then Hansel slumps onto his side, never to move again. Severus grunts, pushes himself up and finally stands. It is then he notices he is still not alone. Against the backdrop of his burning home stands another, slighter figure. The figure of a woman. She looks familiar though the blood and dirt in his eyes prevents him from an immediate recollection.

Severus spits blood in a manner very much unlike himself and raises his wand, "You there, come to kill me as well?"

"Not exactly… Professor."

She approaches him slowly, her wand also drawn. It is then he realizes who she is: her hair is brown and curly, her eyes the color of honey. She is grown now though, ten years older in fact. He is mildly surprised how easy on the eyes she has become, and then notices the Magical Law Enforcement patch on her cloak.

With a sigh, he lowers his wand. She does not. Finally she stands before him, her gaze full of uncertainty. Severus looks at the burning carcass of his house and then back to her, "Miss Granger, I would invite you inside but it seems as though my home is on fire."

Hermione Granger sighs, finally lowering her wand and looking him up and down, "You're a bloody mess." her voice is just as he remembers.

Severus nods, "Indeed. Now, what in the hell are you doing here?"

She gestures towards the crumpled body of Hansel Burr, "I've been tracking that foul excuse for a wizard for the past several weeks. He's got a cell reserved for him in Azkaban. Seems like you took care of it for me, and did a bloody mess of it too." Hermione sighs, her face full of questions, " I finally caught up to him and tracked him here to your door. Although I didn't know that until I saw you crushing his face with your fist. Speaking of, professor, why are you alive?"

He raises an eyebrow and realizes it is far more painful than it should be, "You don't seem very surprised."

With a smile, she responds, "When you've seen what I have Sir, nothing surprises you anymore."

Something shifts in Severus's head, causing the world to lurch to the left, '"My head is dizzy, allow me a moment." Severus carefully sits on the lawn, and he realizes the grass has never felt so soft. When was the last time he ever enjoyed grass? The heat of his burning home combined with the biting wind creates a strange sensation, peace and restlessness. He suddenly becomes aware that Hermione is staring down at him, eyes full of conflict. Severus meets her gaze squarely, only a little concerned when his vision suddenly transforms into a dark tunnel. He feels her name on his tongue, but before it comes out he is no longer conscious.


	3. Chapter 3

Authors note:

Can I just say how tickled pink I am by all of the lovely reviews? You readers are the best. :) You encourage me everyday. I am playing with POV's if you hadn't noticed; going from Severus to a different characters perspective. It makes things interesting. Anyways, thank you again! Enjoy and review if you are so inclined 3

None of these lovely characters belong to me.

XOXO

~C.B.

I awake slowly.

The bed I'm laying on is obnoxiously soft; like a marshmallow that's been left in the sun too long. The air smells like clean clothes and roses.

My head is pounding and both my eyes feel as though they've been glued shut.

Where am I?

Truthfully, I was expecting to wake up in St. Mungos. This place does not feel or sound like a hospital, in fact it is almost to quiet. But then I hear it. The quiet hum of a radio. It sounds like Sinatra: "_Fly me to the moon…and let me play among the stars…" _This makes it eerily feel like I've awakened inside of a strange dream.

I try to sit up slowly, my brain feeling like it's about ready to pool out of my ears. Hesitantly, I manage to swing both legs around and set my feet on the hardwood floor. Even my bloody toes hurt. Biting back a grunt I somehow manage to hobble myself to the door and open it.

What I find beyond the door frame stuns me. It is a neat, quaint little flat. The couch is overstuffed and a neutral beige. There is an ancient looking oak dining set and chairs. Even more surprising is the amount of Muggle appliances alongside magical paraphernalia. There is a television and beside it a broom that is sweeping dust from underneath the coffee table. Countless spell books have residence on a bookshelf next to Muggle literature.

A disgruntled "Meow," emits behind me and I spin around to see an orange, ancient creature who looks ready to either vomit on the carpet or fall asleep. I recognize this animal.

"You're the Granger girls', aren't you? Crookshanks is it?" I mutter, "I can't believe you're still alive you retched thing." Crookshanks gives me a glare with watery eyes as if to say, 'Likewise,' and then with a flick of his tail he trudges and hops onto the couch and promptly falls asleep.

I can't believe Granger brought me here, to what I am assuming is her own home. What a stupid Gryffindorian thing to do. Although being left to either freeze out in the elements or burn to death are not likable options either. She could have just left me; why didn't she?

I know I need to leave and go home, but I have nowhere to go home to. My cottage, though ramshackle was comfortable. All the minimal things I required for survival have no doubt been destroyed as well. Not to mention I had been discovered; going back to that small village would no doubt cause endless problems for the Muggles living there. Though I was never fond of them I would never wish that kind of harm upon innocent idiots. My fight is not theirs. I need to disappear. If the remaining underground Deatheaters know about me, then no doubt Granger has already blabbed to the members of the Ministry and Order that the traitor Severus Snape still lives.

Suddenly, the front door swings open and in through it walks my would-be-savior. Hermione is holding several large grocery bags and freezes when she sees me standing in the middle of her living room. We stare at each other for a time, until she turns around to kick the door shut with her foot, "You look like a caged animal." She sighs, hefting the grocery bags onto her table, "You can make yourself comfortable you know."

I am still suspicious of her intentions. She seems honest enough, but past experiences have taught me to be wary. I decide to revert back to my Professor tone, this is where I am comfortable, "I may be a caged animal Granger, but I can still bite. Where am I?" I try to draw my shoulders up to my full height, but find myself wincing in pain.

Startled, she drops the carrots she was unloading and rushes towards me with palms outstretched, "Professor please, you've been badly injured. You've been unconscious for two days, you need rest-"

"What?" Shocked by her sudden approach I back away from her, bumping into the coffee table, "I've been imprisoned in your squalid home for days? Release me girl, or you will feel the wrath I've been storing."

Hermione glares at me, "One, my home is hardly what one could call 'squalid.' And two, if it weren't for me, you'd probably be dead you inconsiderate brute. Or at least you would have been taken into custody and risked having yourself exposed. Perhaps you would prefer I had left you to rot or dropped you off on the Ministry steps instead?"

My mouth snaps shut. Miss Granger's level of retort has certainly improved. I quickly sort through her words in my mind and find myself more confused: Does this mean she has kept me a secret? "You are meaning to tell me no one knows I'm here?"

"Correct." She nods.

This was certainly an unexpected turn of events, "But, what about Hansel? Weren't you supposed to take him into custody? Didn't the ministry question you?"

Hermione smirks, "Well, being head of the Magical Law Enforcement division has its perks. I may or may not head off somedays without telling people what I'm doing or who I'm looking for. I'd just gotten word he'd been seen in the area, so I took off."

"Just…took off?"

"Yes."

I stare at her and she doesn't look away, doesn't even flinch. I'm not quite sure who this creature is anymore. "What about his body?" I finally ask, "Surely he's not stored in one of your closets somewhere, you seem to have a habit of kidnapping."

She laughs,"Oh, well, terrible thing actually. Tobias Prince, you know, the hermit who lives on the hill?"

"I'm hardly a hermit." I grumble.

"Yes, anyway, his home caught on fire. Quite unfortunate. His body was found burned beyond all recognition in his bed. Never woke up. Sad story really."

The heavy silence that follows her last statement is palpable. The Granger girl, who I had tormented and teased, who had every right to expose me, has in fact protected me? Covered my tracks? There are so many things I want to say, but all that comes out is, "Why?"

A look of sadness crosses her face, "Because Professor, don't we all deserve some happiness? It seems as though you had created something quite…lovely for yourself. A new start. Not many people get that chance," she turns back towards the groceries and begins to sort them into her cupboards, "I wish I did." She says this so quietly I'm not sure if I imagined it.

"Potter doesn't know?" I change the subject, it strikes to close to home.

"No."

"Weasley?"

Her hand pauses minutely and then continues stacking items, "…No."

I make a mental note, Weasley is a sore subject. That can be used for later. "Well then," I drawl, walking up behind her, "What are you intending to do with me?"

Hermione sighs, turning to face me, "To be honest, I'm not sure. I haven't thought that far ahead yet."

"Won't you get in trouble if your peers find out? That you staged a crime scene and are now harboring a murderer? Miss Granger, aren't you breaking the rules?" I make sure my voice is laced with as much sarcasm as possible, I want her to doubt herself. I need to get out.

Her eyes narrow, a hardness I recognize all to well clouding them. It is the hardness of pain, of learning to close oneself off. I realize this look on my former student makes me surprisingly uncomfortable. It does not suit her. "Listen," she says lowly, "if you are threatening me, you are making a very, very large mistake. I saved your sorry arse, whether you like to admit it or not. I've taken you into my home. I've let you sleep in one of my beds and cleaned your wounds. In my time on this planet I've found that sometimes, the wrong thing is right and that rules are made to be broken. I may have a set of rules to follow at work, but I also have my own morals. If that means harboring the likes of you for a time then so be it,"

While she is speaking, my hand wanders to my pocket, I have every intention of using my wand to escape if necessary but a mild feeling of panic settles in when I realize it isn't there. I glare at her when I realize she has already pulled her wand on me, "I've already taken the liberty of securing your wand, " she says, and the coldness behind her words is unexpected, "Although I doubt you would actually use it to seriously harm me, we can't go letting you have free rein after all. You seem to forget I may be just as dangerous as you are. It has been a long time and we don't exactly know each other anymore."

Chuckling, I remove my hand from my pocket and cross my arms instead, "So, you're going to keep me captive here then?"

She gestures with her head towards the door, "Unless you want to leave still injured, without funds or a new identity be my guest. I have journalists constantly hounding me about our Auror sector, mainly because of Harry; they would snatch you up in a second if they saw you and you'd be as exposed like a cadaver in a medical course."

I know she is right. As much as I hate to acknowledge this truth, I have nowhere to go. Granger has taken a great risk to save my life; even if _she_ wont admit to it. I sigh, finally sitting down on the couch, "You're a stupid woman."

"Thats hardly the thanks I should be receiving," Hermione chuckles, as if expecting my venom, "But nonetheless you're welcome." She finally tucks her wand into her back pocket and busies herself in the kitchen again. We sit in silence for some time as Crookshanks snores loudly beside me and she begins to cook.

"Why do you trust me?" I finally ask, "Don't you think I'm desperate enough to try and escape? That I will harm you?"

Hermione glances at me through her lashes from the kitchen as she's chopping vegetables. How she's able to be so nonchalant confounds me. "You wouldn't harm me," she finally concedes, throwing food items into a large pot, "And I don't think you're that desperate. You would have already tried to leave."

"And you think you could stop me?"

She laughs, and I'm disturbed to find it attractive. Like a chime it rings through the living space and I cant help but feel the corner of my mouth turn up. "Of course I could stop you," she grins, putting the lid on her pot which is starting to smell deceptively good, "But, you're smarter than that. We will figure something out Professor, I promise. Once we have all our ducks in a row and I can guarantee your safety I will gladly give you the boot."

"Miss Granger?"

"Yes?"

"Could you refrain from old, foul habits and not call me 'Professor?'"

She surprises me by bringing two glasses of fire whiskey and sits on the couch beside me. I realize she smells lovely. "Then, what should I call you?"

I swallow all of my whiskey in one gulp, then say, "Just, call me Severus."

"I see," she nods, "then, you should just call me Hermione."

There is an inkling deep in my hollow self, that this small act of congeniality is going to change everything.


	4. Chapter 4

The bloody bitch has warded the door.

Less than two weeks here and already I've gone stir crazy. I miss the moors, the howling wind luring me to sleep every night. I miss the uncaring faces of that pitiful town who don't know me from Adam. I miss my freedom.

Granger treats me like an invalid toddler; she won't let me outside, rarely lets me cook and even refuses to let me help with household expenses. I'm lucky I get to piss and shower on my own. I've been strongly considering ripping a hole through the wall but I'm afraid a neighbor may call the police if I start pounding away. I've practically paced a bare patch in her nude colored carpet. My only company is her kneazle, and he isn't saying much. The only things she appears to trust me with are the television remote and dressing myself.

Congeniality my arse.

It isn't like she's even here. Her work keeps her away most days and well into most nights. There has been even one occasion where she was gone for two days with no word; Though I wasn't in the least bit concerned, it was unnerving to not be kept in the loop. The moment she walked through the door I could tell she had been put through the wringer. Her face looked to clean, no doubt a glamor charm. She headed straight for her bedroom without a word. It was only later that evening when I'd heard her sobbing softly through the door I realized the extent of her distress. It turned out a raid had gone poorly, two Aurors had died. She, like always, blamed herself. Granger walked with a limp and that glamor for several days and smiled as though nothing was wrong. Her pride would someday no doubt be her downfall.

I flip through the television channels aimlessly before settling on some comedy show. The sound of laughter makes me feel less alone.

With my wand I could at least break through the wards she's put in place, but I am out of practice. Though one never forgets how to use magic the strength is what is key. After my altercation with Hansel, I realized how unruly my spells had become. My _sectumsempra _nearly split his cheek in two. While it ultimately worked to my advantage, I had only meant it to be a distraction. Long ago I had tried to learn wantless magic, but my patience had wore thin quickly. Perhaps now was the time for practice.

The knob on the front door turns and in she walks looking just as bedraggled as always. Her curls are piled in a messy bun on top of her head, her makeup less face pale with large circles under her eyes. There is a long scar on her left cheek I've never noticed before. Her glance catches mind and she averts her face quickly by opening the fridge and rummaging through it. She hasn't said anything yet because she already knows what I'm going to say first. I tell her everyday in fact.

"You look like hell Miss Granger." And I mean it. She truly does.

She sighs and pours herself a glass of water, her back towards me, "Thank you. How was your day?"

"Morose and dull. Prison-like. I considered lighting your putrid kneazle on fire but he hid the matches. I also shaved with your razor, I hope you don't mind."

She nods absentmindedly and heads towards her room with a quiet, "That's nice," and I know she hasn't heard a work I said. Her door shuts and I know I won't see her until dinner.

When she emerges from her chamber with wet hair and glamor in place at around nine I already have the food prepared. She eyes the table with confusion but sits obediently when I tell her to. I don't often cook meals so her puzzled expression gives me a warm feeling. Perhaps I have grown soft with age.

She eats, but it is truly more like picking. I notice she doesn't eat much.

"Is my cooking that foul Miss Granger?" I ask sarcastically.

She jumps in her chair, like she's forgotten I'm even here, "Oh! No, it's delicious Severus. Thank you."

I gesture towards her plate with my knife, "Don't lie to me. You have barely eaten three full bites and have managed to migrate the potatoes halfway round your plate. Either eat, or don't. No good sense in wasting food."

"No," she mumbles and eats a bite of chicken.

Somewhat more satisfied I continue eating, all the while watching her. I feel like her husband and I am old enough to be her father. Hermione is far to thin for my liking and obviously tired. Why I even care is beyond me. She's holding me hostage. I should hate her, but I don't.

'Her face is pretty.' This thought comes out of nowhere and stuns me momentarily. Her cheekbones are high, her nose small and pert, her eyes large and her bottom lip full. The glamor charm is distracting and irks me. I want to see her true face. As she eats I concentrate; I may not have a wand, but I do have will. Before long my thoughts culminate and the glamor has melted away. She doesn't notice. The scar on her cheek is fairly new, probably obtained after the recent raid. It's still red and angry. The skin under her eyes is dark, almost bruise colored. She looks like she hasn't slept in weeks.

I suddenly realize she is staring at me. Her eyes are full of tears.

"Is this really what you wanted to see?" she whispers thickly, "I don't know how you did it, but are you satisfied now?"

"Hermio-"

A tear slips down her cheek and she quickly wipes it away with her shoulder, "It's just as well. I have no one to impress. It must make you feel good, to see the 'brightest witch of her age' a horrid mess. You have always hated me, wanted to see me fail,"

For some reason her words hurt me. Maybe because I know I have in fact said them. Was I really so cruel? Though I want to apologize, what comes out is biting, "Don't go putting words in my mouth, you know nothing about of your short comings are my fault, only your own."

She shoves her plate away from her and stands, "I'm no longer hungry. I will unward the door and leave your wand on the table. Get out."

With that she walks back to her room and slams the door, leaving me still sitting at the table. Sure enough, I feel the magic from the door lifted and my wand appears before me.

So, that's it then. Freedom.

I grab my wand and stand, fully prepared to make a break for the door but pause when I hear the soft crying. She is suffering. For some reason I am hesitating. Leaving would be the smart thing, but then she would be alone. There is a strange ache in my gut, maybe it is guilt. Maybe just a mutual understanding of her pain. A sigh escapes me and I glance over towards the couch at Crookshanks who is eyeing me. His tail swishes as if to say, 'You know what to do.'

After slipping my wand into my room, I quietly make my way to her door. She must hear me, because the crying stops. Though I don't hear her move, I know she's listening. Sighing again, i sit down beside the door frame. My left knee still aches, so I stretch it out and attempt to make myself comfortable. It's going to be a long night.

There is still no crying after several minutes, so I say quietly, "I know what you're going through Hermione. It's painful to lose those you care about; and trust me I know loss. It hurts, but then…it just doesn't. It's no consolation, but things do get better with time." Still no movement from her side of the door. Maybe she fell asleep. I don't know. What comes out of my mouth next sounds shy, and I don't know what possesses me to say it, "For the record, I think you are beautiful. Even with that scar. I have lots of them. These ten years have been…kind to you. You should never let something like that define you, just… oh bloody hell what am I even saying." I rest my head against the cool wall and for some reason it comforts me. Some time passes and my eyes slowly drift shut. While on the brink of sleep I think I hear the noise of her door creaking open, but it is probably just a dream.


	5. Chapter 5

Authors Note: Hi everybody! Thank you all for the marvelous reviews and follows and favorites! You guys are fantastic and so appreciated! This chapter has a little bit of language and maybe some tingly bits... :) Enjoy my lovelies!

XOXO

~C.B.

* * *

Hermione opens her door slowly, knowing very well that it squeaks. Severus had stopped speaking nearly a half hour before and she was unsure whether or not he had left. To her surprise however, resting in a rather uncomfortable position against the wall, Severus has somehow managed to make himself cozy enough to fall asleep.

She is angry with him; he has said some very hurtful things. But he has also tried to redeem himself to her in the same breath. And now here he sits, like a living gargoyle perched outside her door. It's almost like he is protecting her, but from what? Herself?

With a snort, she takes a long look at his sleeping face and thinks, 'What an egotistical, brutish, brash, confusing and beautiful creature you are.' Though the word beautiful has never once crossed her mind when it comes to her former professor, now in his unconsciousness she can fully appreciate what a striking man he actually is. Long black hair rests against his cheek. His eyelashes are long and black, resting peacefully closed. His legs are long, his arms surprising muscular as they rest crossed against his chest. The bridge of his nose (while still long) is straight and aristocratic. His skin is surprising clear of scars or blemishes even though she knows his life has been anything but easy. Under his right ear though and trailing down under the collar of his shirt is a long, jagged scar. Memories of a time not so long ago refresh themselves in her mind of Severus laying cold and unmoving on a dirty floor, the life flickering out of his eyes. Her hand involuntarily reaches up and brushes against the still healing wound on her cheek. He was not lying when he said he has scars, and this comforts her. The fact that he is sleeping and has exposed himself to her creates a warm sensation in her chest. He trusts her, she realizes. And for some crazy reason, she trusts him too.

With a sigh, she tiptoes back into her room and retrieves her wand. She steps back out, and with a swish and flick she whispers, "_Wingardium Leviosa." _Severus's large frame is gently lifted in the air, and Hermione walks behind him as he floats down the hall into his room and onto his bed. Carefully, she tucks the blankets around his frame and quietly exits, leaving him peacefully sleeping until morning.

* * *

The blankets weigh heavily around my body and my eyes slowly open to the soft light of early morning. I am back in my room and I don't remember coming to bed. For a brief moment I believe the night before was a dream, but I remember distinctly falling asleep with my head beside on the wall beside Hermione's door. Perhaps…

No.

I push the fluttering of my heart away. She would never. She has no reason to be kind to me after what I said last night. I must have put myself to bed and not remembered. With the popping of several joints I stand and open my door. Immediately I am hit with the smell of breakfast. Sure enough, as I enter the kitchen there is a full english sitting ready on the table. Hermione's un-glamored face greets me from her dining chair with a gentle smile from over the top of her coffee cup, "Good morning."

Wary, I raise an eyebrow, "What's all this?"

"Breakfast," she answers smartly, taking a long sip of coffee, "Aren't you hungry?"

"Yes, but-"

She waves off my uneasy words and says, "I want to start over. We both are in funny places in life right now, and I think beginning again would be good for both of us. Now, come sit, your breakfast is getting cold."

I smirk at her bossy tone; this is the Hermione I know, "Your wish is my command." But despite the sarcasm I try to input, it comes out gentle.

Hermione's eyes crease with the grin that spreads across her face and I feel my heart jump. "Come sit," she says, patting the chair beside her. I do as she asks and for the next hour or so we eat and talk. Not once does she try to hide her scar and I find myself laughing, which I had not done for some time.

Once the food is eaten, we both take to the kitchen to clean the remnants of breakfast. Hermione fills the sink with warm water and soap and begins to scrub the dishes as I lean on the counter beside her.

Though this is a rather mundane thing, there has been something that has been bothering me since I arrived, "There's something I've been meaning to speak to you about,"

"Yes?" she asks, trying to pick a dried bit of sausage from a pan.

"You live with both magic and muggle things, why? This would take half the time if you used magic."

Hermione gives me the side eye and smiles, "You forget that I was born to muggle parents. This is second nature for me. Though magic is a very important part of my life, sometimes it is good to remember where you came from. Oh!"

The pan drops from her hands and splashes into the sudsy water, causing a large globule of bubbles and water to splash up and hit her face. Without even meaning to, I laugh as she stands dripping wet. For a brief moment she stares daggers into me, but then she reaches down, grabs a handful of sudsy water and throws it onto my face. This only makes me laugh harder, and then she joins in. Together, covered in bubbles and dirty dish water we laugh like fools. As the joyful high slowly wears down, I look at her. Truly look at her. Even dripping wet she is gorgeous; both inside and out. Her mind is as sharp as her tongue. Though full of self confidence in her own abilities she aches for those she cannot save and puts far to much blame on herself. The bushy hair she had sported during her school days has been somewhat tamed but still refuses to obey her attempts to confine it. Her body is no doubt that of a woman, she is thin and graceful; but still strong with feminine curves. She hardly ever wears makeup, but she doesn't need it. Even without makeup she is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. These thoughts have been plaguing my mind since she stood in the burning light of my home. Feelings unfamiliar to me for many years are burning, and I have no idea what to do with them.

It is then I realize, that she is truly looking at me too.

We are no longer smiling. There is a sudden tension in that air and the only place my eyes will look are into hers. I see a small cluster of bubbles on her cheek directly over her scar, and before I can stop myself my hand reaches out and brushes them down her cheek. Though she jumps a bit, her eyes never leave mine. My hand is suddenly back and cupping her same cheek, almost engulfing the entire side of her face, my thumb running gently over the red line cut into her skin. I can't stop myself and she doesn't stop me either, only leans into my touch, her eyes finally fluttering shut. Her face turns slightly, her lips suddenly pressing into my palm. My heart aches with both fear and desire, and now my other hand is against her face and I step into her, so close that our bodies are pressing against one another. She is hot. An inferno.

Her eyes open again and she looks up at me, her eyes clouded with something primal. I realize my breathing has turned harsh and is mixing with hers. I don't want to pull away, I want to be inside her. I slowly bring my face down to hers, our gazes locked.

There is a flash of green and a loud pop from the corner near her fireplace.

"What in the bloody fuck is this?! _Stupify!_"

Before the spell hits me, I manage to turn. There in the living room stand two individuals, both of whom I would trade my kidneys to never see again. The man on the left with dark shaggy hair and mouth agape like some kind of fish is none other than Harry Potter. Beside him, wand pointed directly at my face is Ronald Weasley, face as red as his hair. Unlike Hermione, he looks especially unhappy to see me.

A flash of red strikes me, and then blackness. The sound of Hermione screaming my name is the last thing I hear.


	6. Chapter 6

Authors Note: What is this?! Two updates in a week?! I was so excited that I couldn't wait. Thanks again for all the support, and please enjoy!

XOXO

~C.B.

* * *

My head hurts. The worst migraine I've ever experienced. For being someone who has not used magic for ten years I am certainly being abused by it. I can't help but see the irony.

Though my hearing has been dulled I can hear yelling in the background. One male is calm, another male is screaming words unfit for even the ears of prisoner and then there is the soft tone of a female.

Hermione.

With some difficulty I manage to open my eyes and even though my vision swims I can tell I am on the kitchen floor. I see them then. The Golden Trio together at last. Wonder boy Potter is holding Weasley by the shoulders, standing between him and Hermione whose face is streaked with tears and in a pleading voice shouting, "Ronald, stop!"

"Are you bloody insane?" Ron yells, "Harry move it!"

"Ron, calm down! I'm sure Hermione can explain-"

"Like hell she can!" Ron has finally managed to escape Harrys grasp, blowing past him and grabbing Hermione roughly by the shoulders, pushing her into a wall.

She yelps.

I see red.

Before I even realize i've gotten to my feet, my hands are around the front of Weasley's neck and I have him pinned to the floor. His gray eyes are wide as he desperately tries to pry my fingers from his throat, "DON'T-YOU-TOUCH-HER!" I roar.

His hands stop moving, his body trembling beneath me, "Oh my God, it is true… you're alive…"

Hermione's small hands are on my shoulders, pulling frantically at my shirt, "Severus stop! You'll kill him! Please stop!"

It is only then I come back to my senses. I quickly release my grasp and step backwards, heart slamming in my chest with rage.

"Severus! Severus, look at me," Hermione spins me around, taking my face in her hands and looking me in the eyes, "It's ok, I'm ok. Breathe please…"

I wrap my arms around her and pull her tightly against me, she feels so breakable. At first I think it is her body shaking, but then I realize it is me.

"Professor?"

The voice behind me is unsure and disgustingly familiar. I reluctantly release Hermione and slowly turn to face Potter. He is standing in front of a very stunned looking Weasley, wand in his hand but held at his side.

"Potter." I sneer.

To my surprise, Potter's face breaks out in a relieved smile, "Thank heavens. For a minute there I thought you were a boggart." He looks so much like his father it's infuriating: Same height, same build, same shaggy mop of hair. The eyes though, still Lily's. They are even greener than I remember behind his round glasses. It doesn't escape my notice that Potter is sporting a very similar scar to Hermione's; opposite cheek though.I wonder if they are related.

"How do you know he's not one?" Weasley interjects from behind his comrade, "What if it's a Death Eater using his form?"

Potter turns around with a frown, "Shut up Ron; I'm brassed off at you at the moment. If the Professor hadn't already beaten the shit out of you I'd have knocked out your front teeth by now."

With a grunt, Weasley finally gets off the floor and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Potter sighs and shakes his head, finally turning those damnable green eyes towards Hermione, "Are you all right? "

"Yes," she mutters, "Ronald can be such a beast."

Potter shakes his head, "I'm so sorry Hermione. His behavior has been completely inexcusable. You are not his property. You two aren't together-"

My jaw muscles clench. Potter catches this and snaps his mouth shut. There is a long tense silence. Of course Hermione and Weasley had been an item. Anyone could see that a mile away, even when they were students. Weasley's reaction suddenly makes more sense to me now. I can feel Hermione's gaze on me, but I somehow can't look at her.

"Anyway," Potter shrugs his shoulders, a smile once again appearing on his face, "I'm certainly surprised to see you Professor. Care to explain where you've been the last decade?"

"Mr. Potter I'm surprised," I mutter, "Miss Granger hasn't filled you in on all the gory details?"

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. The lightning bolt scar is still as prominent as ever, "No, she's been more secretive than normal lately though. Well, I mean, she's normally secretive anyway. She's not only head of the magical law enforcement department, but she is also chief of foreign affairs and espionage, you know. That's kind of her job to be mum. She can find anyone, anywhere, anytime."

Now I look at her. Her cheeks are tinged pink. "Well, well. I knew she ran the law enforcement department, but it seems like Miss Granger has been keeping more secrets than I thought." I can feel a much different emotion inside of me now.

I am hurt. She's never told me any of this. I thought we were trusting each other now. But, if she was known for her ability to find anyone…

Was it really a coincidence she showed up on my doorstep? Has she been looking for me all along?"

I feel her pinky finger brush against my hand; it's a soothing gesture, but I pull my hand away and stuff it into my pocket. I do not want to be soothed. I am not a child. I have been deceived. She neglected to tell me the truth about her activities with the ministry and never once has she mentioned her relationship with Weasley. Does she think me stupid? Naive?

The bathroom door opens and out storms Weasley. He stops and glares at me, "There is something I need to say to you,"

I raise my eyebrow and smirk, "Oh? And what is that?"

"You," he points at me, "are a smarmy, greasy git. And if I EVER catch you with your old perverted hands on her again I swear to you-"

"Shut up Ron!" Hermione storms forward, knocking his hand away, "Severus is none of your business and neither am I! You suddenly care very much about my activities, but where was all that before? I am no damsel in distress, you take care to remember that."

Weasley looks stunned for a moment, "Severus? You are calling him by his first name?"

"And what about it?" Hermione snaps.

Weasley growls and then apparates away, leaving Potter behind. Potter sighs, rolling his neck, "Well, I'm in for a load when we get back to the office." His green eyes find mine again, "Professor, we will talk again soon. Hermione," Potter rests a hand on her shoulder and gives her an affectionate, but sad smile, "Stay home for a few days all right? I'll take you cases."

Hermione looks like she's about to protest, but Potter only shakes his head, "No complaining. I'll curse your desk if I have to." He nods at me, glasses glinting, "Take care of her, okay? I promise no one will know you are here; I'll make sure Ron gets that into his thick skull." With that, he steps back and disappears, leaving Hermione and I alone in the living room.

There is a long moment of silence. It is she who breaks it, "Severus,"

"Don't," I mutter.

She bites her lower lip, "Please listen,"

"To what? I've heard all I needed to. You knew where I lived, didn't you?"

She doesn't say anything.

I sneer, "You were never looking for Hansel, he was just a bonus. It was me you were after."

She still is silent.

"And Weasley," I chuckle, "I am not surprised your lover would be so angry walking in on his woman with another man, I am such a fool. No matter, it was all in the moment. No harm done."

"Severus," she whispers, there are tears in her eyes, "Ronald and I are not together, never were," She takes a step towards me, "please, if you will just let me explain. I will tell you anything, everything."

My fists clench at my sides. I am trying desperately to keep my cool demeanor, but when she reaches out to touch my chest a lamp on an end table explodes. Hermione gasps, hands clinging onto my shirt. She looks up at me with wonder, "Did, did you just,"

I grab her small hands in mine and pull them away. But then I cant let them go. I want to hate her. But I can't. I am tired of hatred. With a frustrated sigh I pull her back against me, arms wrapping around her shoulders. She practically collapses against me with relief, small sobs escaping her, "I'll tell you everything," she whispers over and over.

I bury my face into the curls of her hair and know I am positively doomed.


	7. Chapter 7

Authors Note: Hello lovelies! Here is a new chapter. Sorry for taking so long, I recently started a new job and that's been cutting into my writing time. Please enjoy!

~ C.B

* * *

We sit side-by-side on the couch together, the noise of the television dull in the background. The air is tense. We've been like this for some time now, in silence. I refuse to speak first. I want answers. The constant torrent of emotions pulsing through me are both confusing and terrifying. I want the truth about everything, but despite every horrible thing that has happened in my life I've never been this unsure of my own feelings. Though even in my heart I know the real reason my mind is reluctant to admit I am so afraid is because I do not want to lose her; this beautiful woman who has saved my life. This woman who I had watched grow up and thought I knew. I want the truth, but I want her more.

Hermione sighs, finally turning to me, "I'm so sorry Severus. I never meant to lie to you."

Intent on not letting my emotions get the best of me, all I can do is shrug. Though I've already forgiven her, the angry heat of jealousy in my heart has not yet subsided. She reaches out and takes my hand in hers, fingers squeezing tightly, "I should have been truthful from the start; about everything. I truly was looking for Hansel, but I knew that he, in turn, was looking for you as well and I thought-"

Despite my best efforts to keep my mouth shut, I blurt, "I'm not angry about that," it comes out almost a hiss, and I finally turn to face her "that is understandable. What I am angry about is Weasley."

She looks genuinely perplexed for a moment, "What? Why? I've already told you Ron and I are not together,"

"Be that as it may," I snap, "there was obviously some sort of attraction. He treats you like you are his possession. It is unacceptable. Not only that, he laid his hands on you. Why you insist on being friends with that ginger-maned Cro-Magnon I haven't the faintest clue. Being close with Potter is bad enough. Weasley acted like a jilted lover and I refuse to be some fool who is overstepping boundaries that have no need to be crossed. Now, tell me the truth, what is your relationship with him?"

Hermione's large eyes blink owlishly, "Severus, are you jealous?"

I feel the heat rush into my face. I've said to much and I know I need to backtrack, "No. I just refuse to repeat terrible old habits. If you insist on insulting me I will leave." With that I stand and glare down at her, "I will be nobodies fool, especially some insolent girl."

Her fingers reach out again, grasping my shirt sleeve, "Severus," she says gently, seeming to ignore my anger "please, sit down. You can't threaten to leave every time you feel cornered or upset. I promised I would tell you anything you wanted to know, remember? How can I tell you the truth if you are refusing to hear it?"

"I-will-stand." I growl through clenched teeth, "Now tell me."

Hermione sighs, shifting uncomfortably, "Ron and I did have a mutual attraction in school. Though that attraction was very brief, and may I stress BRIEF. We kissed on one occasion, but it was in the heat of the moment and after that there was nothing else. That was ten years ago. Ronald was a bit of a womanizer and I most certainly did not appreciate it. He is a good man, but not the man for me."

"Then why did he react the way he did?" I realize my voice sounds sulky.

"On top of being a womanizer, Ronald is also jealous. Normally he hides it, but I think seeing us like we were…" her face flushes, "It was probably a bit of a shock. Harry and he really had no idea you were here. They know me well, and must have realized something was off because it is rare that they come to my home unannounced."

I stare hard at her, but her eyes are unwavering. She is telling the truth. Shaking my head I sit back down beside her, "Forgive me," I mutter.

She takes my chin in her hand and turns my face to meet hers; the corner of her mouth is turned up, "I have nothing to forgive you for. You have every right to ask questions. I was only trying to protect you until I could figure out what is going on and why you are involved. But, I do find it strange that out of any question you have, it is that one you were most upset about."

My eyes narrow, "I simply didn't appreciate Mr. Weasley's actions. That is all."

"Oh really?"

"Really." My voice is harsher than I intend it and she frowns, leaning away from me.

"My mistake then,"she says quietly. I feel her closing off and I inwardly chide myself for being so angry, "Any how," she continues, as though nothing has happened, "I had gotten some information through my contacts in the Underground that a small faction of Death Eaters had been congregating in the Muggle world. In particular Scotland, and they were attempting to recruit new members and somehow your name came up. I'm not positive how they or who discovered you initially, but they figured out you were living among Muggles and considered you a threat. Once they realized you were abstaining from magic, they knew it would be their only chance to take care of you. When I realized that you were truly alive, I knew I had to find you."

I snort, "That was very stupid of you. You put yourself in great danger for my sake. Why not let nature take its course? It's not like anyone would have known any different; as far as the normal wizarding population is concerned I'm dead. Why did you do it?"

There is a pause. When Hermione speaks again her voice is quiet, "Because I would have known. I just…I couldn't let them…" she trails off, hands fidgeting in her lap, "I couldn't stand the thought of you losing everything, especially your life. And I-" her voice cracks, "I had to see you for myself."

My heart suddenly begins pounding, "Why?" my voice is a whisper.

Hermione's shoulders begin to tremble, "I, I'm not to sure of that myself. I just felt pulled to you. You were such a large part of my life and I-"

The fireplace across the room suddenly crackles to life, startling us both. Within the red flames is the face of Potter, "Hermione," his voice sounds urgent, "we have a problem. You need to get to the ministry."

All traces of the building emotions from our conversation disappear from her face and voice as she stands, "Harry, whats wrong?"

"There's been a murder, in the ministry. You need to get here quickly."

"All right," she says, rushing to her room to retrieve her wand. I quickly rise and head towards my own room, ready to grab my own wand and follow her but we meet in the hallway and the look on her face causes me to pause.

"Severus," she says gently, "you can't-"

"Don't be daft woman, I'm going with you."

Hermione takes a deep inhale through her nose and sighs, "How do you expect me to explain why you're there?"

"Not my problem," I growl, "now move before I-"

Before I can finish my sentence Hermione has wrapped her arms around my waist and holds me tight, "Severus," she murmurs, "please, I need you to stay here. I'll be back in no time. I need you to guard the house, all right?"

I gently push her back, my eyebrows knitting together, "Who are you expecting to come?"

"Hermione!" Harry's voice calls from the living room, "Hurry! I'll meet you at the front entrance!" The sound of the fireplace quiets suddenly, and now we both know we are alone.

I look hard into her eyes, "You promised me you would tell me everything, what is going on?"

"Truthfully," Hermione squeezes me again, "I have no clue. I have a hunch this is retaliation for Hansel. I've gotten some rather distasteful hate mail recently, so I'm suspecting this killing is supposed to send a message. Don't worry,"

My hands grip her shoulders tightly, "Don't tell me not to worry when your life is at stake! Hermione-"

I fully intend to tell her how I feel in that moment: how I would follow her anywhere, how I want to kiss her mouth and make love to her, but she places her hand over my lips with a knowing, sad smile, "Severus, we'll continue this conversation. I promise, but I need to go." with that she steps away from me and brushes against my arm on her way down the hallway leaving my heart aching. I hear the pop of her apparating away in the front room and helplessly lean against the wall.

Useless.

I am useless.

'Guard the house,' she said. Did she say this to sooth my ego?

A small yowl near my feet catches my attention and I look down to see Crookshanks squinting at me. It is long past his supper time. I sniff and stare back at him, "I am not your butler you know."

He swishes his tail at me in response and waddles down the hallway, not bothering to look back because he already knows I'm following.

* * *

It is late.

She has been gone for eight hours. It is already near four o'clock in the morning.

I have not heard from her at all.

I've been sitting on this damn couch waiting, trying hard to stay awake. The television is still on and despite my best efforts Crookshanks has splayed himself on my lap and is wheezing in his sleep. I've considered just grabbing my wand and flooing to the ministry, but decided Hermione already had enough to deal with and that my presence would only cause here more trouble. I can feel my eyelids slowly drifting shut again, the lure of sleep almost to strong to resist.

But that is when I hear the sound outside the front door. It is only a small noise, one that could be written off as the wind pushing the leaves across the doorstep or the house settling.

I know better though.

Quickly, I stand. Crookshanks falls off my lap in an undignified heap, but he too pauses and looks at the front door before running off down the hallway.

Even he realizes things are wrong.

Cautiously, I grab my wand from the table and creep towards the entryway, pausing between each step to listen. All is quiet.

That is when the front door is blown off of its hinges.


	8. Chapter 8

Authors note: Hi! I hope you all are well. Here is a new chapter! Please, read, review and enjoy!

~C.B.

* * *

The crowd surrounding the entrance doors of the ministry was in an uproar, bodies pulsing forward in waves as more and more wizards and witches joined. The news of the murder had spread quickly; it only made it more terrifying that this gruesome crime had happened within the ministry walls. The aurors standing in a line outside the locked front doors looked tense, wands clutched at their sides while Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, desperately tried to quell the throngs of voices from his podium.

"Tell us," one reporter cried, "who was murdered?"

Another one shouted, "Is it true he was found hanging from the rafters of Chief Grangers office?"

The voices continued for some time, growing progressively louder until the large entrance doors swung open and out walked Harry Potter. At his appearance a hushed silence fell over the crowds. In his late twenties now, he cut a striking figure with his black hair, close fitting navy cloak and infamous round glasses. Harry had joined the ministry right out of Hogwarts and had climbed through the ranks of the Magical Law Enforcement division quickly, reaching the position of top auror by his nineteenth birthday. Despite hardly ever showing up to public events, he was still one of the most recognized faces in the wizarding world. He came to stand beside Kingsley Shacklebolt and raising his wand to his throat, Harry pressed it against his skin and said loudly, "All of you, leave. There will be no more conferences or inquiries today. If you don't go now, you will be arrested."

Several voices of protest began to rise, but that was only until Ron Weasley stepped out from behind the line of Aurors with wand pointed at the surprised throng of wizards and witches, "He said MOVE." Even without magical assistance, his voice boomed. The copper haired third of the Golden Trio was Head Auror second-in-command and often took over Harry's position when he was away. Often, Ronald's job on missions with Harry was to kick in doors and ambush everything with a pulse while Harry carried out their goal. It was well known that Harry Potter was strong, but Ronald Weasley was he first one to throw himself into the line of fire. He was a man of few words and explosive actions. It was not smart to prod a bull, and the bull was more often than not ready to charge.

Slowly, and with much complaining the crowd began to disperse. It was only then when everyone had gone that Hermione Granger removed her invisibility cloak and appeared beside Harry, mouth in a tight line, "Well, that didn't go well." She muttered quietly.

Harry sighed, then said grimly, "No. It did not. There will be a lot of covering up to do when this is all over."

Ron turned, and glared when he saw Hermione standing beside Harry. His eyes narrowed, "Nice to see you showed up."

"Ron," Harry's voice was laced with warning, "this is not the time, nor place. Cool it mate."

"Whatever." Ron made his way back up the steps and through the large doors, not bothering to look at Hermione as he passed.

Kingsley watched him go, then turned to Hermione with a raised brow, "What is his problem?"

"Besides everything?" Hermione sighed, "Who knows. As much as I don't want to, I need to see my office. Let's go."

* * *

The walls were far more bloody than Hermione expected. It stained nearly everything and ranged from a light mist to a dark, wide pool from where the limp body dangled from a rope tied to one of the ceilings rafters.

Hermione couldn't help but gasp and turn her head into Harry's shoulder, and he in turn wrapped his arm around her and drew her closer. Ron stood mute beside them, throat bobbing with a hard swallow.

Minister Shacklebolt sighed, "His name is Ivan Hollowstead. He was one of our informants and a former Death Eater."

"It's horrible," Hermione whispered, finally turning her eyes back towards the bloody scene, "Who would do such a thing? And why my office?"

"You worked with Hollowstead, did you not?" asked Kingsley, taking a few steps forward to look up at the body.

Finally steeling her resolve, Hermione pulled away from Harry and walked up beside the minister, "Yes; he had recently told me about the small group of Death Eaters that had appeared and were trying to recruit him." She averted her eyes as Harry waved his wand and Ivan's body floated gently downwards and suspended itself horizontally in the middle of the room.

Harry looked down at Ivan and sighed, gently pushing down the dead wizards collar and the now loosened rope with the tip of his wand then winced, "Poor bloke. He got put through the mill. He was nearly decapitated by the looks of it."

Ron, who had been silent up until tis point muttered quietly, "Yes, but there isn't a lot of blood on his body, is there? You think he'd be covered in it. Especially with how torn up this room is." The wound on Ivan's neck, though deep was surprisingly clean and free of blood. The whole room didn't make sense.

"Not only that," Hermione frowned, "this room is always warded. There is no way that anyone could just walk in here. If they did, well, let's just say the only body in here wouldn't be just poor Ivan."

"Is that so?" asked Kingsley, still looking around the room, calmly flipping through a file open on Hermione's splattered desk.

"Yes," Hermione's voice was clipped, "there are very few people who have access."

"Like who?" the minister turned towards her, deep frown lines creasing his face.

Hermione scoffed, then began counting off on her fingers, "Myself, Harry, Ron and you sir. That is all."

Ron suddenly stepped forward, "Just what are you getting at?" Hermione said his name in warning but Ron pushed her completely behind his back, "You sound like you have something else to say minister. Well? Spit it out!"

The air grew still and the underlying hum of magic began to vibrate. Kingsley sighed, hands tucking into his pockets, "Why all the hostility? I'm simply stating the obvious. There are only a certain number of individuals, you claim, that have access to your personal space Miss granger. If you didn't kill him, and Potter didn't kill him, and Weasley didn't kill him, and Kingsley didn't kill him, then who did?"

Harry and Hermione quickly came to Ron's side, all three drawing their wands in unison. "You said Kingsley," Hermione hissed, voice quivering with rage.

Kingsley blinked slowly, taking a step backwards, "What? Yes, I said I didn't kill him."

"No!" Hermione snapped, "You said _Kingsley _didn't kill him!"

"What in the bloody hell is going on?" Harry asked through clenched teeth.

"Who are you?" Ron snarled.

Kingsley smiled, his teeth a sharp white against his dark skin, "Well now. Looks like these three little doggies have some bite after all. Too bad you didn't bring Snape along to join in on the fun."

"What?" Hermione's words came out in a whoosh.

It was then that Ivan, while still suspended in mid air sat up, wand in hand with lips pulling up into a wicked grin, "Arf arf, little doggies."

The fight happened quickly. Sudden flashes of green and red light flashing in the office space. Objects exploded, papers ripped and littered the air and ground, shouts and spells ricocheting off the walls. Ivan and Kingsley, though outnumbered were holding their own against the three Aurors. All the while, in the back of the three lifelong friends minds hovered a terrifying thought, 'Where is everyone? Why is no one coming?'

"_Expelliarmus_!" Harry shouted, suddenly realizing Kingsley had made his way towards the window and broke it open with his elbow.

Kingsley dodged, surprising Harry by waving his wand at him, but then at the last moment pointing it towards Hermione, "_Crucio!"_

By the time Hermione heard the curse, Ron had already jumped in front of her. He screamed, his voice strangled and fell. The distraction was just long enough for three more men, all dressed in black to climb through the windows, wands drawn.

Kingsley smiled again, the face suddenly distorting and appearing to melt away.

Harry's eyes widened in horror when he realized he was now looking at Walden Macnair, The wizard executioner. The one sent to kill Buckbeak. The man who had tried to strangle him. The man Nevill had saved him from by gouging his eye. The man whose same red and diseased looking eye was a dead giveaway to his identity.

"Hello children," Walden sneered, "It appears you are now outnumbered. Drop your wands if you wish Weasley to live."

Hermione's frantic eyes met Harry's. He gave a small nod, and they both let their wands fall to the floor.

Walden smiled again, his good eye twinkling and his damaged eye clouded, "Excellent. Now, I hope you are prepared to travel."


	9. Chapter 9

Authors Note: DISCLAIMER! There is some rather saucy language in this chapter; both of the swear word and sexual nature. Just giving you all a heads up!

XOXO

~C.B

* * *

The wooden door explodes, shrapnel flying in all directions. I barely manage to dodge a large chunk by ducking behind Hermione's couch.

There is a male voice, and it yells, "Severus Snape! Show yourself! _Expulso!_"

"Oh bloody fuck-" I hiss. I take quickly to my feet and throw myself into the kitchen, just as the couch suddenly jumps and its innards are expelled around the room.

"You can't hide forever!" the voice roars, "We've already got the little bitch in hand, surrender!"

I feel my heart stutter. Hermione's face flickers in my mind and a pain settles into my gut. This is why she hasn't come home. She's been taken; she's been taken from me.

Another voice, higher in pitch than the other but still male joins in, "Potter and Weasley are there too, a little worse for wear might I add. No one left to hide behind coward!"

I grit my teeth. Those two buffoons were supposed to help her. If only I had listened to my gut.

Footsteps echo throughout the room, knocking over items and slowly coming towards the counter corner I have tucked myself into. My mind races; what can I do? I am outnumbered and trapped in Hermione's home. There's no where to go.

The lower voice chuckles, "She's a pretty one, that Mudblood. Got nice tits too."

At these words there is a low ringing in my ears. All else around me begins to fade into a hatred induced blackness.

"Yeah," the other man snickers, "stripped her down the minute we got her. No doubt we'll be able to join in later, may be a little sloppy though."

My abdomen is pulsing, throbbing with heat. The thought of her soft skin being handled like some random piece of meat makes me feel murderous. This is the me I have been running from; this man of violence. I have hidden him, reigned him in like a caged lion. A lion that paces and waits for the single opportunity to pounce.

"What's the matter Snape? Didn't get a good poke in? Not wizard enough?" they both laugh.

I stand slowly, my fingertips clutching my wand so tightly I fear it might break. The man on the left is taller and wider than myself and has a long scar down his right eye, "Ah," he smiles, he is the one with the deeper voice, "That got you, eh? So we were right then? Didn't give her a sticking huh? Guess you aren't wizard enough."

A tight grin spreads across my face. Both men raise their eyebrows in surprise.

"You are right," I murmur softly, "I am not the wizard she deserves." I toss my wand down at their feet. They glance down, following the movement of the wand. They do not see my left hand, glowing red behind the counter

"However," I say. Their eyes meet mine just as I rear back and slam my fist into the cabinet. Pieces of granite and wood fly towards them accompanied by a blast of heat, knocking them both across the room and to the ground. "_Accio _wand!" I hold out my right hand and my wand flies back into my grasp. As the dust settles, I see the two Death Eaters covered in debris and large man appears still. There is a groan as the slighter man shifts beneath a cabinet door. I walk over to him, taking my foot and pressing it down on the cracked piece of wood, "However," I say again, grinding my boot for emphasis, "I can only hope to be the MAN that deserves her. You wanted to unleash me? I will grant you your wish. I will be the last thing you ever see. _Avada Kedavra!" _The green light strikes him and he struggles no more.

There is movement from the large man. With a strangled yell he stands and glares at me. He is bloody and bruised, "You," he spits, "What in the bloody hell was that? What kind of black magic do you posses?"

I remove my foot from the body of his fallen companion and face him squarely, "Never underestimate the power of a dead man."

He smirks, "It's that little whore, isn't it? The big bad Death Eater, the infamous traitor Severus Snape has a soft spot for a little Mudblood."

My jaw clenches.

The Death Eater laughs, "That is it! Oh, sakes alive… Trust me mate, you won't want her anymore after tonight. She's gotten quite the work over."

"Silence!" I snap, "You lie!"

He smirks, "You know better Snapey. You know what happens in the underground, probably better than most seeing how long you were in. It'll start with her innocence, you did know she was a virgin, right?"

Despite every desire in my heart, I manage to keep my mouth shut. My heart aches, my mind is in fire with hatred. But anger in this situation will get me nowhere. I must bide my time.

"Ooh, so you didn't know. Well, she isn't anymore. She's been deflowered in more ways than one. Don't fear though, we have more women who are more than willing to please you. Because, you know, there is still the opportunity for you to come back."

This catches my attention. Wanting me to rejoin the Death Eaters seemed to not have been their intention until now; but looking back maybe it had been. They had tracked me, beat me near death and then stole the one person I am closest to. Had this been their ploy from the beginning? To scare me into submission? All of this new knowledge can be used to my advantage if I play my hand correctly. I raise my eyebrow, "Go on."

The man smiles, pleased by my interest, "Exactly as I said. A wizard of your power could be of great use to the uprising. Your reputation for being deceased will only help you. No one would ever suspect someone who is not alive. You could move in the shadows again, release that power of yours. You could have all the pure blood witches you want, you don't need a soiled little goodie goodie. Come on Severus," he holds out his hand, "make an unbreakable vow with me. If you do, that little ministry puppet will be released. We will have no more use for her."

I take a few steps forward, "What about Potter and Weasley? Will they be released?"

"Ha," the Death Eater chuckles, "Well, you must understand that Potter is sort of our holy grail. We have plans for him. Something along the lines of shoving his head on a stake and parading down Diagon Alley with it. His red headed lackey will be given as an offering to our Dark Lord. What do you say?" his hand is still outstretched, waiting.

I smirk, taking note of the small amount of movement from the corner of my eye, "You make an interesting offer."

"Yes," he murmurs, a look of hunger flashing behind his eyes, "but it does have an expiration Snape. Make your choice."

I look at his hand and then to him, my pleasant expression melting into hatred, "Fuck. Off."

A blur of orange shoots up from the below, latching on to the dark wizard's hand. He looks stunned for a moment before he begins to shriek and flail his arm wildly, blood leaking from the broken skin and onto the floor. Crookshanks holds fast however and allows me just enough time to rush the large man and knock him back to the ground. Though he struggles, one of my hands grabs him around his throat while the other raises with wand pointed at his face as I shout, "_AVADA KEDAVRA!" _this green flash is brighter than any I had ever conjured before, and when the stars finally disappear from my eyes I am stunned to see that his face is no longer there, only a bloody hole. I had never known this curse to cause physical damage. Maybe it was rage, maybe it was the pent up amount of magic within me. I cant find it in my heart to care. He is dead and I am not. More importantly, Hermione is alive and he has told me exactly where she is.

The Underground.

Otherwise known as the dungeons of the former Malfoy Manner.

I stand and feel a brush against my leg. Crookshanks is looking up at me, and I reach down to give him a scratch behind the ears, "Thanks," I mutter affectionately, "I owe you. Stay here until we get back, all right?"

He nips gently at my fingers and then rubs his head against my hand as if to say, 'I know, get on with it.'

I look towards the open door, the one I had longed to escape so badly and realize that the real reason I never left was because of her. I truly could have left whenever I wanted, I just simply chose not to. This is no longer just Hermione's space, but mine as well. This is now our home. Wherever she is, I will go.

Without hesitation, I walk through into the early dawn.

The sun will be rising soon.

It is time for this dead man to be resurrected.


	10. Chapter 10

After putting a charm in place to both secure the flat and disguise my identity I apparate and appear in front of a ramshackle door in a run down building in knock turn alley. The air is heavy with coal smoke and the acrid smell of potions. Many people walk past me and don't pay me a second glance. My disguise is that of an old, small, hunched over, fair haired man. On the bridge of my now pudgy nose rests a pair of my own glasses (which I don't wear often enough) and my cloak is ragged and dirty along with smudges of ash across my face. I knew I would be heading to this God forsaken alleyway and would have to blend in as much as possible. Raising a closed fist, I pound heavily on the flimsy door and wait for the man I know lives here. The man who knows better than any how to get into the underground of Malfoy manor.

There is a scuffling noise behind the door and a wary, "Who is it?" the voice is graveled and tired, but I would know it anywhere.

"It's the bloody tooth fairy. Open the door… Draco Malfoy."

There is a pause, then the door flies open and a wand is the first thing I see. I don't step aside however; I let Draco's wand touch my Adams apple and stay there, the hand behind it trembling. The infamous blonde Malfoy locks have lost much of their luster and is askew across his forehead, his face is just as tired looking as his voice, beneath his eyes are dark circles and his pale face is sporting a shadow of blond scruff. His grey eyes are cold as he looks me up and down, "Who do you think you are knocking on my door," he hisses, "who in the bloody hell are you?"

I smirk, knowing full well I am disguised, "You are unbelieving I see. Tell me Draco, how is Daddy doing? It's a shame about him being in Azkaban, leaving you with nothing but a tainted name."

"You son of a bitch!" he snarls, pressing his wand harder into my neck, "I don't give a bloody fuck who you are, I will kill you where you stand!"

"No," I murmur quietly, "you wont Draco." I reach out and gently grab the arm holding his wand, flipping it over to see the Dark Mark, exceptionally black against his fair skin, "I still have it to, you know. It's been ten years and I've tried many things to make it go away, but here it still is. It never goes away, like the anger. It eats away at you, whispers your name at night while you're trying to sleep. You have nightmares, do you not?"

"What are you-" Draco stammers as I remove my hand and push up my own robe sleeve, exposing my Dark Mark,

"Draco," I ask quietly, "aren't you tired?"

His grey eyes look warily at me, "If-if you're trying to recruit me I'm sorry; I've already told the others no."

"My boy," I whisper, letting the glamor on my face slowly disappear, "I'm not here to damn you,"

Draco's mouth goes agape and he stumbles back a few steps, "You…"

I smirk, stepping through his door and laying a hand on his trembling shoulder, "I'm here to set you free."

"Snape," he backs away from my touch, wand dropping to the floor, "what kind of trickery is this? You're dead!"

"So goes the rumor," I shut the door behind me, "as you can see, my demise has been greatly exaggerated."

His home is dirty, empty bottles of liquor lay strewn across the floor along with countless newspapers which are stacked in every corner. They have his fathers face on nearly every one of the covers. Draco watches me silently as I pick one up and read the headline: "LUCIOUS MALFOY, TRAITOR, DIES IN PRISON."

"He died a broken man," Draco says quietly, "mother didn't take it well. They wouldn't even give us the body to bury in the family cemetery." He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it even more, "Professor, is there some reason why you're here? Or did you simply come in to rub in the fact I am a failure?"

I place the newspaper back down carefully on top of the stack I had found it, "As much as I hate to admit it, I need your help. I need to get into the manor."

Draco's eyebrows nearly reach his forehead as he barks out a laugh, "You-you're joking, right?" at my silence he only laughs harder, "Oh, you're serious? You're mad! My family lost possession of the manor after the war! There is no way I can get back in through those doors. There are wards in place that would turn my organs to jelly if I even stepped foot on the front porch."

I raise my eyebrow, "Do you really think I believe that? I think you are afraid."

"Afraid? Of what?" Draco's voice raises, "I have nothing left to lose! Look at me!" he holds his arms out and now I can see how thin he is, the grey shirt he is wearing appears to hang off of his frame, "I am wasting away; I survive mainly on booze and canned goods. I am accosted when I'm seen on the streets; I am a pariah, hated by everyone. I cant even go out to buy food. The only way I get anything to eat is because my mother brings it to me and she isn't in the greatest of health either."

"Excuses, excuses," I drawl,"I am disappointed in you Draco. Where is that Malfoy fire? Where is that cunning boy I used to teach?"

"Dead," he snaps, "he is dead Snape. I want nothing to do with you, or Hogwarts, or my home. You haven't explained your reasons for being here either; why do you even want to go into that God-forsaken place?"

"They have something I want, and like it or not you arrogant little pustule you are going to get me through those doors."

"Or what?" he sneers.

The sneer droops a little when I pull out my wand, "Or you are going to wish you had never opened your door. Now, get dressed, we are leaving."

* * *

"I can't believe you talked me into this," he grumbles, pulling his cloak hood lower on his face as he fists a handful of floo powder, "If I am beaten on, I expect you to come to my aid."

"Shut up already you miserable whiner," I hiss, grabbing his cloak sleeve and dragging him towards the fireplace, "we are wasting daylight. Now, where did you say we were going?"

Draco rips his arm from my grasp and scowls, "We are going to a small cabin on the Malfoy property I used to play in as a child. I called it the Dragon Room. And do-not-touch-me. If you insist on man-handling me then at least buy me a drink."

"Speaking of drink," I mutter, looking down at his enclosed fist which is holding the floor powder bag; it is trembling, "when was the last time you had one?"

He follows my eyes and pulls the hand closer to his side, "This morning. It's nothing. Now it's you who is wasting time." He steps into the fireplace and smirks at me; for a moment there is a flash of the arrogant, proud child he used to be, "you asked for this Professor. Now it's me who is in control."

"Please," I roll my eyes and step into the crowded, sooty fireplace alongside him, "we will see who is in control in a few more hours when you still haven't had a sip of fire whiskey."

There is a small snort of laughter beside me and he says, "I don't really need it. It just helps me forget. There is a lot I don't care remembering. It's bad enough I have to see Potter, Weasley and Grangers name in the paper every damn day. I'm glad I haven't seen any of their smug faces."

I raise my eyebrow, "Don't you think its time to bury old grudges?"

"Why?" Draco hisses, "Potter took EVERYTHING from me. You of all people should know that." A look of realization and horror begins to creep across his face as he slowly puts the pieces of my request together, "No, this has to do with them…doesn't it?"

I remain silent and the horror in his eyes turns to anger, "You bastard!" he roars, "How dare you come into my home and try to fool me into helping them, those fools and that mud-"

He doesn't get past mud.

I grab him by the collar and slam him into the back of the fireplace, the soot from the chimney raining down on both of us, "Don't you say it," I say quietly as he drops the floo powder bag and tries to pry my fingers away, "don't you ever call her that. If that word ever crosses your lips again I will make sure to sew them shut. And I don't mean with magic. Do you understand me?"

Draco stops struggling against me, in his eyes there is defeat, "Why do care about Potter? You hated him,"

"This isn't for him." I release Draco and motion to the bag of floo powder laying near our feet, "We are wasting time, you need to trust me."

"Why?" he whispers, and it is then I notice the tears gathering in his eyes, "why are you doing this to me? Please, just leave me alone."

For the briefest moment I begin to question my judgement and think I can do this without Draco. He will only be a hinderance. But then I see his trembling fingers and the empty alcohol bottles and know I can't leave him here either. If I leave him, he no doubt will kill himself. Whether it be with alcohol or his own hand he will not live much longer in the state he is in. I sigh, and bend down to pick up the floo powder bag. I take Draco's hand in mine and dump some of the powder in his upturned palm, "Listen to me," I say gently, "I need you. There are a lot of things happening and I can't change them by myself; there is a resurgence of Death Eaters and things will only continue to grow worse. I promise I will explain more, but dammit Draco this is your chance to redeem your name; your fathers name. I have tried to do things alone for so many years, but you know things I do not about the Manor. So, I am asking you," I stare deep into his watery eyes, "help me."

His eyes leave mine and glance down to his palm. There is a long moment of silence. Draco lets out a heavy sigh, his cheeks suddenly going red and his face contorting with anger. He raises the fist with the floo powder, throws it down and as a flash of green envelopes us I hear him shout, "DRAGON ROOM!"


End file.
